


Flutter

by BloomTwist



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gladio and Noctis are good bros, Ignis is in denial, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Promnisweek2019, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, allusions to baptism, brotherhood era, mentions of LuNoct and ClarCor, mild panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloomTwist/pseuds/BloomTwist
Summary: There's something particular to all citizens to Lucis. When one meets their soulmate, a countdown clock will appear in the place they touch first. It's a blessing from Lady Etro, who wants those consecrated to Her know how much time soulmates will spend together in life.Ignis has had the timer for as long as he can remember. No matter how much he looks at the countdown, the calculation remains the same.Twenty years, two months, twenty-one days, seventeen hours, two minutes and thirty-six seconds. When Ignis reaches that age, his soulmate will die. His soulmate, who is nowhere to be found.





	Flutter

Ignis is four when he ventures to his Uncle’s study and asks what the numbers on his right hand mean. He’s seen his mother and father –they have them too but not on their hands. Mother had looked a bit sad when asked, and father had muttered that maybe he was too young for the bird and the bees.

(Ignis doesn’t know exactly what that means –but he’s heard things in the school’s halls. He knows it is something terrible and very scary.)

So he goes to his uncle. He is fun, and clever, and doesn’t coddle Ignis more than what he deems appropriate. Surely, he can answer his question without touching the scary birds and bees.

Yet it’s the first time he sees his uncle lost for words. It is bizarre, and he’s about to apologize when his uncle takes off his reading glasses and pats his lap.

Ignis goes immediately.

“This,” he explains, a finger touching the borders of his right palm. “means you’ve met the person most important to you, the one whose soul was made just for you.”

Ignis furrows his brows, trying to understand the enormity of what Uncle’s tone suggest without avail. “Just for me?” he asks instead, and it feels nice, to know someone was made just for him. It means he too was made for someone –has a purpose.

“Yes.” Uncle hums. “We call these people soulmates”

Ignis repeats the word with awe and maybe it’s his imagination but something resonates in his heart –a little warm thing that feels like anticipation and joy.

Uncle explains that people of Lucis are very special. That when one meets their soulmate, a countdown clock will appear in the place they first touch. It's a blessing from Lady Etro, who wants those consecrated to Her know how much time soulmates will spend together in life.

“Why aren’t they here then?” None of the children at school have any numbers on any part of their body. He’s made sure of it as covertly as possible. “Do they hate me?” he asks, suddenly shy and scared.

“No. You are a wonderful kid, with a bright future ahead of you,” his Uncle touches his nose playfully. “and your soulmate is someone who will unequivocally appreciate and love you. They are probably lost in Eos at the moment. But you know what they say about soulmates meeting?”

“They will always meet, no matter what,” Ignis parrots firmly, but nervously looks at his hand. The numbers mean they have already met.

“Yes,” Uncle says, and with a finger under his chin, tip Ignis’ face so they can look at each other. “But you must understand, they will _always_ meet each other. Especially if they are apart. They will meet each other. _Always._ ”

Ignis breathes, and the knot in his stomach disappears. Uncle never lies. If he says they will meet again, then he must trust the bond. His soulmate may be a little lost, but they will meet each other.

(Two years later, Ignis realizes his Uncle’s words of reassurance were just empty platitude. Candid lies to soften the blow.

No matter how much he looks at the countdown, the calculation remains the same.

Twenty years, two months, twenty-one days, seventeen hours, two minutes and thirty-six seconds. When Ignis reaches that age, his soulmate will die.

Perhaps they will only meet again a few minutes before the inevitable.)

 

* * *

 

Ignis is six when King Regis assigns him the royal heir to his care. He wonders what exactly did the King see in him to choose him from many other more qualified and mature prospects.

It is not long before he realizes it.

Prince Noctis is a sweet kid, attentive and kind. He takes to lessons with care as long as they are fun, and Ignis finds himself enjoying himself while making strategies for each.

Above all, Prince Noctis also has a Soulmark, on the back of his right hand. It’s not the same as his however. The Prince’s is just a date in silver calligraphy.

“I was born with it!” Noctis explains animatedly, waving his hand. “Dad says, they must be outside Insomnia. Soulmark as date of birth is from Eos followers.”

“Is that so?” he humors, filing the date away to make an investigation later. It is a bit fascinating however. The timer soulmark is not the only one. Did different Astrals have their own soulmark system? Maybe it was just for the two ladies of heaven. 

Ignis won't make the mistake of falling for the possibility.

Noctis nods enthusiastically. “I like yours better though,” he continues and it takes all of Ignis’ court training to not stiffen visibly. “You have a timer, whomever they are must be Inside insomnia. You must’ve already met them too!”

Smiling takes an insurmountable amount of effort in in the face of such words –but he achieves it. “Be as it may,” he starts kindly even if each word scratches his throat “his highness should take into consideration the feelings of their soulmate. Would you be happy if your soulmate was complaining right now that it would be easier having someone nearby for a soulmate?”

Noctis pouts, his eyes watering a bit. “I wouldn’t”

Ignis ruffles his head affectionately. Truly, this boy wears his heart on his hand. Such pure emotions. With the correct training and education he will grow into a good kind King. “Then trust you will meet them one day. Even if they are outside the city”

Noctis smiles in awe. “I will?”

“All soulmates do. Always”

(At night he studies his hands longing mixing with a drop of bitterness. Why did his soulmate leave him? Why hadn’t they come back? Did he –did their bond- matter to them at all?)

 

* * *

 

Ignis is ten when Noctis meets his soulmate, and while he isn’t there for the meeting he sure is for the fallout.

Noctis is still recovering, but the night terrors show no mercy. Ignis is almost a fixated decoration to his Highness’ bedroom nowadays. He is already familiar enough to sit on the bed while he tries to soothe his liege’s terrors and fears. He knows how to handle them, after all he’s learned how his parents do it whenever he wakes up scared, the thought of his soulmate dying before they meet again fresh on his mind.

They are the same in that regard, Ignis thinks grimly.

Gladio looks at the Prince, lips drawn in a thin line. “He’s afraid Princess Lunafreya will perish before they meet again,” he concludes a step shy from upset. These months haven’t been kind for him either. First unable to protect his liege from the Marilith attack, then being away from the attack in Tenebrae, and now unable to protect his prince from the horrors of his mind. None of them are his fault, but Ignis doesn’t doubt the shield blames himself anyway.

“Such a heavy burden,” Ignis agrees, brushing his liege’s hair. Noctis is sleeping better now, the lines of his face softer, his breath even. “He’s too young.”

Gladio, huffs, and throws him an incredulous stare. “And you _aren’t_?”

“Gladiolus,” he warns. His soulmark is no secret to the court, but by now he’s grown numb from all insinuations and faux condolences. Yet he won’t allow Lord Amicitia’s son to mock him.

The shield crosses his arms. “Just because I am his shield doesn’t meant I can’t help you with your… burden.” He grunts, never looking at his face, but Ignis is somewhat grateful for the unorthodox tact. “We are all in this together. The three of us.”

Ignis knows Gladiolus isn’t referring just to the night terrors or his own fears regarding the timer on his right hand. Tenebrae has fallen, the Oracle is dead. The war is about to turn bloodier and more savage. Noctis will need them both, outside of battle –and maybe at his side when the battlefield calls.  

(The next day, he enrolls to Crownsguard training. He will be of help to his liege no matter the situation, no matter how dire the stakes. Noctis might want to free his soulmate too –and if that’s the case, Ignis aims to be of help for that goal.

There might also be a selfish and childish desire. The stupid little hope that he shouldn’t wait for his soulmate to come back, that maybe they are waiting for _him_ to meet them outside. It is foolish, and Ignis life is not his own. Hasn’t been since he was six.

So he buries it deep. Uncaring if it festers with his fears, his anger and his hopes. A decade is nothing in the grand scheme of things.)

 

* * *

 

“That’s… not a long time your soulmate has left” Noctis comments one day when they are reviewing the last points of Noctis’ final biology exam. It’s about extinct creatures of Eos from the second ice age.

Ignis stills and looks at his liege with something near trepidation. For his part, the prince has the decency to look embarrassed, eyes fixed on his slow drumming fingers.

“I did the calculations,” he explains embarrassed, “Are they sick?”

“Your highness,” he calls sternly and his liege freezes. Ignis sighs, and clenches his right hand. “That… is confidential.”

“I’m sorry. I just… Gladio told me he helped you.” Noctis bites his lip. “We’re gonna save them too. I promise.”

Ignis crushes the little burst of hope that arises at those words. Noctis is a child, and he should be more worried about the war –about Lady Lunafreya, the new Oracle of Eos. Ignis soulmate means nothing –shouldn’t mean a thing. Not when they have abandoned Ignis, when they haven’t done a thing to get back to Ignis, to know them.

“Your highness is very kind,” Ignis compromises and Noctis frowns. “In the meanwhile, I believe we have an exam to review.”

Noctis groans and mutters something under his breath.

He looks back to the review material. The Elephantaurs actually survived the Ice age, only to die a few decades after the Ice melted. All what’s known about them comes from the large congregations of fossils in the graveyards of Duscae and Ravathog.

Through research, it is common knowledge that these mammoth creatures only returned to their place of origins to die.

His right hand twitches.

Four years left.

Was his soulmate an Elephantaur then?

(Ignis starts to notice the few medicine books that start appearing in Noctis’ small library. According to the King, his liege is trying to learn healing spells. Ignis is ashamed.

“I swear your majesty, I never suggested…” he tries but the King dismissed his worries with a faint smile.

“I believe you. He’s always been stubborn whenever an idea comes to mind –that son of mine,” he comments wistfully. “It will do him well. Healing can become the definitive factor between a victory and defeat.”)

 

* * *

 

Ignis is seventeen when the Lucian court breaks into a scandal. No noble is dying, nor are there any accusations of embezzlement. No heads are rolling. Yet Ignis finds it insufferable working at the Citadel during it.

He commends Gladio’s tenacity. Ignis is adviser and hand to Prince Noctis, if any noble comes around trying to weasel out any information, or comes suggesting anything from pleasant to degrading he can flatly ignore them and go on his way.

The Prince’s shield doesn’t have that excuse at all. Clarus is his father after all. And no matter if the King has suggested discretion, voices are heard the moment the King’s shield develops another soulmark on the first anniversary of his wife’s death.

It’s not a timer either, but a sword alongside his right arm.

The sword belonging to Cor Leonis.

According to Gladio, the Marshall too had developed a soulmark, but it was the traditional Etrian timer.

“What if we have it wrong all along, Ignis?” Noctis asks one afternoon while playing an online match of Kings Knight with someone. “What if your timer isn’t Etrian but one belonging to another god, or even a smaller one like the Master Swordsman? It could mean you two…”

“Your Highness, please.” Ignis interrupts humorlessly leaving the knife on the cutting table with a bit more force than necessary. His liege looks at him for a moment, sullen and crestfallen and nods.

“Just…” Noctis frowns and Ignis can see how hard he’s holding his phone. “…think about it Specs.”

Ignis sighs. “I know you Highness means well…”

But he only –they only- have three years left. Maybe less. The time for clinging to any lifesaver, any delusions and hopes is long past. He should accept that his soulmate is going to die –that he probably won’t even see them again.

“I know. I know… I won’t talk about it anymore. Sorry Specs.” Noctis mumbles and goes back to his match, shoulders down and morose.

Only for that, he 'forgets' to put any vegetables on the dinner he’s preparing.

(Two months after the scandal passes, he receives an intelligence file concerning a refugee. At first he wonders, if Noctis has something to do with it –if he’s giving a suggestion. But as he read he understands: his liege has made a friend, and the file was given for evaluation.

The boy is all right –curious redaction notwithstanding. Though he is a Niff, his status as a refugee could be a favorable PR. He has to admit, the grades of this Prompto Argentum show promise. He’ll keep an eye if the lad decides to pursue a career in engineering.)

 

* * *

 

The last year of his soulmate’s life passes without a hitch. Ignis is busier than ever between his duties to Noctis, the Crown and his new clearance on military meetings. He has poured all his attention to them, almost to the point of exhaustion.

So much so that his uncle has threatened to intervene several times. Ignis knows better than to test his uncle’s resolve –there’s a reason why he's feared in the noble council after all.

He hasn’t missed the way nobles are offering a small rendezvous with their daughters either. By the time the last day approaches he is tired of it all and wants it to be over and done.

When the fated day arrives, Ignis ignores his family’s suggestion to take the day off. His soulmate didn’t have the decency to meet him before today, he’s not going to give them the decency to mourn their passing. All his turmoil throughout the years ought to be mourning enough.  

At least that is the plan, but he can’t help but look at the diminishing time during lunch. Gladio tries to cheer him up and ropes him into a spar to keep his mind away from the ticking clock.

It works, mostly. He makes sure avoid looking at his hand when he showers and changes in the locker room. Gladio offers support, in his own though way, but Ignis insists on picking up Noctis.

He and his friend are going to have a sleep over. If anything, finally getting to know the fabled Prompto –who earned Gladio’s approval in just three weeks after meeting him- will be enough to keep his mind away for the afternoon and evening.

He’s at five sharp on the school’s parking lot, and can hear his liege’s voice in the distance. He sounds happy, and whatever he says is followed by crystal laughter. That must be Prompto then.

He gets out of the car, and waits for them in the sidewalk.  He can see them in the distance, his liege and his blond friend. He frowns. True, he knows Prompto is from Niflheim, but he had expected the boy to at least dye his hair to avoid unwanted stares.

He must be very brave, choosing to not do it and endure the unfortunate xenophobia some sectors of Lucis had. Ignis finds it commendable at the very least.

Not to mention, the good influence he has over Noctis. Like this, Ignis can see how freely his liege walks, how his smiles are genuine. He had been aware of the changes of course, but like this it was absurd to deny Prompto’s influence.

He deserves an honest handshake then. His mind made up, takes off his gloves and makes the mistake to look at his hand.

The numbers leave him cold.

It’s –less than a minute.

He swallows and tightens his hand into a fist, nails digging into the dwindling digits. He can endure this. He already made up his mind. Made his peace. His terrible soulmate didn’t care. Didn’t come.

Ignis doesn’t need them. He can get over them. He–

“Hey Mister Scientia…” someone interrupts shyly. There are well-worn sneakers on the ground. “Uhm… Are you ok? Do you need to lay down?”

A hand hovers over him and Ignis doesn’t think, mind going static as he takes the hand by the wrist and bats it off.

The action is followed by a piercing scream. The blond steps back holding his wrist. Ignis looks at his hand, and the timer turns to zero, and remains. Noctis shouts something, but All Ignis sees is Prompto –that’s Prompto, right? Noctis’ friend- doubling down, holding his wrist.

His wrist is red, almost like bleeding.

It looks painful and —there are tears in those violet eyes.

And his timer is now zero.

Did Prompto have hemophilia?

Had his grip on his magic—

Soulmates always meet. _Always_.

Did he —Did he kill his soulmate?! Noctis’ only friend?!

A ragged sound, growl thing, escapes his lungs. Something hard and cold hits his back. His knees buckle.

Had he _killed_ his soulmate?!

Noctis shouts something, but everything is a blur.

All he can hear in the echoes of Prompto’s cries.

All he can focus is on the red on his wrist.

In the deep violet of those crying eyes and the long blond eyelashes.

The blond’s lips move.

Ignis can’t read them.

He hopes at least they don’t accuse him of murder.

Ignis doesn’t know he’s shaking until something warm envelopes him. Isn’t aware how hard he’s clinging until the warmth holding him moves and his arms ache.

Something warm and had-shaped passes though his face. Ignis isn’t aware he had closed his eyes until then, and opens them to see Prompto's face hovering over him. Eyes no longer watery.

“You’re alive…” he can’t believe that feeble sound is his voice.

Prompto – _his soulmate, that is his soulmate, he’s holding his soulma_ \- “Yes. I am.”

Ignis breathes, suddenly aware of a warm thumb moving on his shoulder in slow circles.

His heart thumps loudly, painfully. Ignis is certain it will break out of his ribcage at any moment.

“No it won’t,” a warm voice, Prompto’s, it has to be his soulmate’s, soothes “Now breathe with me.”

He can breathe a little bit easier, a little bit freer. And his soulmate—

His soulmate is with him, breathing deeply, warmly and _alive_.

The timer on his hand is muted gold, the timer on his soulmate is pitch black and ongoing. They are fine, he’s fine, his soulmate is fine.

Ignis takes a deep breath, utterly ashamed on how weak and tremulous it is –and in such a public space as well! But the blond pays it no mind, arranging them closer with slow deliberate moves until Ignis head is resting on his soulmate’s chest. He closes his eyes, the continuing heartbeats calming him down.

The blond murmurs something, and even if he can’t pay enough attention to the words he knows with unnatural certainty that they are kind. His soulmate is kind. His soulmate is warm. His soulmate is here. _Alive_ and—

“Breathe with me Ignis,” the suggestion is soft, just like his gaze or the hand taking his own and Ignis can’t do anything else but follow his directions. He had piled so much anger, hatred and fear on his soulmate, and yet when they finally meet again, he can’t do a thing to deny him.

(Nor does he want to.)

He breathes in and out, and little by little, the world expands. There isn’t just Prompto and him anymore. They are in the backseat of a car. Noctis is on the passenger seat, arms around the backrest, blue eyes a mix of concern and relief.

The car is moving, and he meets Gladio’s eyes through the rearview mirror.

“You with us?” he asks and Ignis glares. Above him, his soulmate snickers the sound crystalline and soothing.

Noctis smiles. “Yeah, that’s regular Specs.”

The arrangement doesn’t change much inside Noctis’ flat. If anything, it grows just a bit more overbearing. The prince guides them to the sofa, and his soulmate arranges them so they can continue cuddling. Gladio even brings them a blanket to share even though it’s not that cold outside.

Ignis complains about the unnecessary fussing, he is not a child after all —but none pay him any mind.

(Though maybe he doth protest too much, since he tightens and pulls his soulmate closer with each complaint he mutters.)

“I still need to make dinner,” Ignis insists, even though he has an arm around his soulmate’s waist and doesn’t have the slightest motivation to let him go. Especially when his soulmate is leaning on his shoulder, warm and tactile. Noctis snorts and waves it away.

“Take out Specs,” he waves his concerns away. “Why don’t you two get it out of your system before it arrives?”

“That implies acts of entirely inappropriate nature,” Ignis comments in disapproval, and turns to his soulmate adding placatingly “Please, don’t think I’ll ever do something so  crass in public.”

It earns him a chuckle and the blond extends his hand. “I’m Prompto Argentum by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Ignis widens his eyes and covers his face with a hand in acute mortification. By the gods. He had done everything wrong so far. Had he tried to flirt without even introducing himself, to his soulmate, who is alive?!

Ignis doesn’t exactly groan but he feels his face warm with shame.

“I gotta say,” Prompto comments a touch impish, “It’s the first time I did such an impression with someone.”

“I’m Ignis Scientia,” he finally introduces himself, taking the blond’s hand and content in denying how that smile grows into a smirk. “I assure you, I am far more eloquent than this.”

Prompto hums affirmatively. “Oh I know, Noct says you roast him on the reg. Hope you don’t mind me basking on this before you start roasting me too”

He chortles in surprise and can’t help but laugh a bit in good humor. “Soulmate or not, I do give a forty eight hour warning.”

Prompto raises an eyebrow. “Should I expect a formal embossed letter in my inbox?"

“I’m afraid it’s verbal notification only,” Ignis banters right back.

“Good thing I have this then,” Prompto gestures at his soulmark timer. “Forty-eight hours you say? The countdown will make it easier to keep track of time.”

Ignis passes a thumb over Prompto’s timer. The blond tenses, perhaps from residual pain so Ignis makes sure his touch is feather soft. “I thought you were going to die today,” he confesses in a grim whisper. When he looks up Prompto is there, watching. His smile wilts a little, but there’s strength in the purse of those lips, and the way he presses his free hand on Ignis’ shoulder.

“Tell me,” he asks —and even though the wording is assertive, there is a cadence in those words that make it an invitation.

Ignis does.

Not everything of course. Because he is still torn deep beneath the layer of relief and freedom of having met his soulmate and having him alive. Because even though they are soulmates, they just met. But Prompto wants to understand, wants to know him better and so does Ignis.

So he tells him. Just enough to convey his fears, what he’d grown up believing. Prompto remains quiet during it, but is still a solid presence that intertwines their fingers when Ignis finishes.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” Prompto says afterwards, his hands tightening their hold just a bit. Ignis knows it is ridiculous to promise something like that —especially in the current climate with a war at their doorstep. Yet Prompto’s eyes are serious, and he finds himself wanting to believe.

The timer on Prompto’s wrist says Ignis has around sixty years left. That is as good as a promise of their eventual victory as any.

“Thank you,” he says, and then, because while he may have given a terrible first impression he is still a romantic at heart, he raises Prompto’s right hand and softly, reverently, kisses its back, never breaking eye contact. “I’m happy I met you, Prompto Argentum”

(He can hear Gladio whistle somewhere from the Kitchen. _Holy shit that was smooth_ )

Prompto tenses for a moment and then deflates with a happy sound. “Me too!”

There is something weighty in the words, and Ignis wonders. He doesn’t hesitate and brushes his soulmate’s hair in slow swipes. “Tell me,” he asks, ready to return the favor.  If his soulmate had doubts about their bond –or lack thereof, then it was only fair for Ignis to hear them out. To have both of them in equal standing.

“I'm not from Lucis. I mean,” Prompto fumbles for a moment, but Ignis is ready to give him all the time he need. They now have _time_. And it’s their first meeting. “I'm a refugee, from Niflheim. My Parents must've consecrated me to Ifrit before they tried to bring me to Insomnia and couldn’t make it.”

Prompto bites his lip and hunches over himself a little. “Didn’t want to consecrate myself to another god. Didn’t want to lose the last connection to my parents, y’know. But it made me wonder if I really had someone because nothing…” his soulmate doesn’t elaborate and just finishes with a weak shrug.

There is a lot of sorrow in those few sentences and Ignis pulls him closer until the blond is half straddling him. He was never one for closeness, but for his soulmate he would make a lot of exceptions. Especially now that he _can_ have the chance to make them. “The infernian?” he prompts in an effort to keep the blond away from the past tragedy.

Prompto hums affirmatively, and the sound reverberates on his shoulder, through his clothes. Etro be gracious, his soulmate is  _alive_. "See, while you were... y'know, Noct, Gladio and I came with a Theory"

"Theory?"

Prompto nods, a small smile lightening his violet eyes —and they are violet, like the Stupeo-Scientia House colors. How did he pass over that detail when he was looking through the blond's profile before? "You see. Every god has a different way to show their soulmark. Eos show the date of birth, Etro the timer until death, the Swordmaster the silhouette of their main weapon." 

"Yes." Ignis knows that. When people consecrated to different gods are soulmates, the mark that appears on each other is the one of the God their soulmates were consecrated... "The counter was Ifrit's!"

Prompto nods. "Yeah. According to the Oracle," at this Ignis narrows his eyes, somehow the mention of the Oracle implies something more than a trivia taken from a television program. "The Infernian is also the god of fertility and—" Prompto coughs into his hand, cheeks vibrant red. Ignis has the sudden childish urge to pinch them "—joyous coupling. Which translates that the timer shows how much time until you meet your soulmate."

Ignis hums, studying his palm. It would explain some things. Uncle said he got his soulmark when he was two, but yet none of the people that could have possible touched him at the time had developed a timer as well. When he was two years old… around the time Prompto was born, maybe?

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was something else. It still gives him enough solace to wrap that little bit of insecurity and bide it goodbye.

“So a timer until I met you,” he wonders aloud.

“Isn’t that great? I bet it didn’t hurt as much as mine did” Prompto comments and Ignis sees how the skin is still raised and pink around the edges of the numbers and agrees. Mother never mentioned if he’d cried when getting his soulmark, and if he did he doesn’t remember the pain anyway.

“I believe I have some soothing gel in the armiger,” he suggest, while doing a mental review of the Prince’s inventory.

“Nah I’ll survive,” Prompto says, and then looks at him. “We’ll survive.”

Ignis smiles, taking his soulmate’s promise deep into his heart, “Yes. I believe we will”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First work for the Promnis week 2019! Starting the year with my OTP
> 
> Some end notes, just in case I revisit this AU:  
> 1) It goes into Verse 2, and Prompto will have the scare of his life when his timer pummels fast when Ignis puts the Ring of Lucii to fight Ardyn.  
> 2) Luna still dies, but Noctis gains another soulmate a week later, to the consternation of everyone. Noctis still goes into the Crystal and comes back a decade later.  
> 3) By that time, the Chocobros are certain their plan will work, because Gladio's timer went from indicating that Noctis would die at thirty, to showing he would die at Seventy-six.


End file.
